Emeralds and Rubies
by Loopyloz
Summary: When the truth becomes too much where can you hide? How do you regain peace or freedom? In a time of curruption how is innocence conserved...? ONESHOT


**Authors Note**: This is only a short fic I wrote over a year ago, but was never too sure about wanting anyone to see it. Not because the meaning behind it was feeble but because I was unsure as to whether it said everything I wanted it to. I have this clear idea in my head of what the story is about and how it made me feel and I worried that I may not have made it so that others could see it as I did. Please read and review and tell me what you honestly think. But be gentle with me! It would mean a lot to me and I would consider posting more of my work.

**Emeralds and Rubies **

I could never be what they wanted. Who they wanted. I could never fight in the great battle which would surely come. I could never kill. I could never fight for what I do not believe. Never look upon the "enemy" and use those two fateful words which would end all.

I'm weak. Pathetic. Undeserving of the life I have been given.

My hand hovers above the knife and I will myself to take it into my grasp. To cut . To bleed. To be free. But I dare not. I am too weak to even kill myself. To end my own torment. Some may have seen this as some act of resilience. Believed that I was too proud or selfless to cause pain to those around me. With a jolt I realise that my death would cause nobody pain. There would be nobody to cry for me. To miss me. My parents would feel only shame at the disgrace of it all. That their oldest child could kill himself. Fearing that is would reflect poorly on them. Their grief would be artificial. A lie. A bitter smile twisted his features at this realisation. Yet their charade would not last long, after all they had another child to carry on the family name. One who wished to be moulded into what they believed was fitting of the heir of their fortune. One who would never disappoint them as he himself longed to do. His class mates were another matter. He imagined there would be a fair amount of perplexity at his actions. Unable to understand why the quiet, watchful boy who always sat alone at the back of the class would want to end it all.

That was the perfect way to describe himself really…… Watchful.

He watched as people went about their daily lives, some of which were slowly and quietly loosing hope as he had. Coming to the realisation that they had little left to loose. They would soon find themselves as he found himself now. Undone. Forsaken. Morose. Yet there were those who still pretended nothing was wrong. As though they were not on the brink of what he believed would be the most devastating war the wizarding world had ever known. A war that would destroy innocence and make murderers of an entire generation. Were they really so oblivious? So blinded? He hoped for their sakes that they were. That they would be able to keep up their travesty of reality. He watched as people were divided. Good and bad. Wright and wrong. Light and dark. Those credulous enough to believe that such things existed. Believing that it was right to kill a death eater because they were "evil". Never considering that they were afraid for their family, their home, their life. Falsely interpreting their desperation as malevolence. As though they chose to kill, to maim, to destroy. While those who followed the dark lord foolishly believed they had no choice, no alternative, no hope. However he knew better. Knew that the one thing all had was a choice. To live or to die. To kill or to be killed.

And his choice was death.

He would die uncorrupted. Innocent. Alone.

And he hated them for their naiveties. He wanted what they had. He wanted to be blinded by impractical morals and ideas. He yenned to forget.

And as he thought of this her face drifted uninvited into his mind. The exception. The one he tried so hard to despise but secretly craved. One he would never have. But he knew everything about her. She was like him. She saw what was to come. Knew the truth. Yet unlike him she was strong. She was able to fool those around her into thinking she was like them. But she wasn't. And he knew that she was also able to see him for what he was. That every time her piercing green eyes caught his gaze she was able to penetrate his thoughts. See his soul. See his truth. See that he was fading fast. And with this he wondered if _she _would miss him. Being the only one to recognise his despair would she feel guilty for not saving him? Rescuing him? He hoped not. As death would be his saviour. His release. His only hope.

He wondered if things could ever have been different. Had he stood up to those who held him back. Had there been no dark lord. After all she was a pureblood too. And he knew she dreamt of it too. Wished that things were different. _Normal_. But reprimanded himself at his idiocy. For they were dreams alone. Unobtainable. Unreachable. And there would always be a dark lord. One who longed for power as he longed for her. And his blood would always lead him to become one of the hated one of the abandoned.

He smiled at the image of her face. Her auburn ringlets, pale innocent face and woeful eyes. Eyes that failed to conceal her shattered soul from him. Eyes that knew too much but gave away too little. And his smile was gone as he knew what would become of her. Knew that once the war was ended, if she survived, she would no longer be able to go on. With what she'd lost, her siblings, her resolve, her innocence. As it was certain that out of her many brothers few, if any, would survive. Either guilt or loneliness would lead her to where he was now.

These thoughts both feared and excited him. He wished for her happiness, for her long and fulfilling life. Yet knowing that the only way for them to be together was in death he secretly and shamefully yearned for her demise. Which made him hate himself more. But wherever he went he would wait. Wait for her to join him. Wait for her to find him.

It was time now. He must do it before anyone were to enter the dormitories. For if anyone were to discover Blaze before he bled out all would be lost. This was his last chance. His only escape. Slowly reaching for the dagger and turning it in his fingers he marvelled at its beauty. At the intricate heavenly designs twisted into its silver surface. At the weight and magnificence of death. And bringing the cool edge to his wrist he marvelled at the ruby droplets falling from its point. Entranced by what he had created. However he could not remain so. He had to focus as all was not done. Shaking his head which was fast becoming light he drew the blade over his left wrist, before dropping it to the wooden floor.

Trying to put into words his feelings he lay back onto the mattress, shaking black strands of hair from his eyes. Peace he thought. Freedom and peace. His eyes now heavy closed without his consent. No matter. Now he could see her again. Her emerald eyes no longer melancholy but glowing with joy. Smiling. Radiant. Free.

He was ready.

He was innocent.

He was gone.

But he'd never stop waiting….


End file.
